Elons and Colons
by Braveheart57
Summary: The Doctor' shyness collides with Lethbridge-Stewart biology values. And as it turns out, Elon Musk's skills of observation.


The Doctor entered the posh London flat, shaking hands with Elon. He was very excited to hear what new space-y tech Musk was working on.

"Go on, have a seat," Elon invited. Both the Doctor and Kate Stewart sat down on the comfy divan. Only, when the Doctor did, he got a sensation. Slight pressure as well as discomfort, as his colon was not sufficiently supported by the semi-soft cushion. He half-frowned, as subtly as possible. This moment, sitting in a room with the greatest entrepreneur of the 21st Century, was _not_ a good time for the Doctor to need to poo. And yet, that's exactly what was happening.

In the beginning, the Doctor found it easy to listen to both Kate and Elon discuss the partnership between SpaceX and UNIT, and thoroughly ignore the continuing pressure in his bottom. It was when he shifted slightly, and put his legs closer to the couch, that Kate turned to look at him. She raised an eyebrow at him, to ask if he was alright. The Doctor simply looked away from her and turned back to face Elon again. This reaction spoke for itself.

The conversation ended, and Elon stood up, getting ready to go back to headquarters with them. The Doctor hesitated to get up, as he needed to apply some extra pressure against the impatient poop inside him, and clench. He kept clenching as he stood up. Kate saw it clearly, and realized what was wrong. She frowned in concern, but didn't say anything. They had never been to his house before, so not wanting to ask the mind behind the Tesla to borrow his facilities made sense, at least in regards to the Doctor. On the way, Elon Musk had them stop at a petrol station as he needed the loo. Kate noticed the Doctor remained seated.

"Doctor?" Kate hinted at the Doctor expectantly. He feigned ignorance as to what she was referring to.

"Aren't you getting out?" she asked, clarifying(unnecessarily)

"No, I'm good," the Doctor lied.

"Oh, really? Then tell me, how exactly does restraining all muscles in your buttocks help concentration?" Kate questioned with scepticism.

"It doesn't. It is, however, crucial in preserving one's dignity when a genius billionaire philanthropist is _less than 500 metres away_!" The Doctor rebutted exasperatedly, defending his choice, and at the same time admitting to his need in the privacy of the Elon Musk-less car. Kate rolled her eyes and dropped the argument. 10 minutes of further clenching later, they arrived back at UNIT HQ.

The Doctor showed Elon around, with his hands intertwined on his back, providing necessary _support…_

While Elon talked to some other UNIT officers, Kate listening adeptly, the Doctor needed to sit down, so he did. On a lounge chair that allowed him to sit cross-legged, with both feet under his bum. Seeing this, Kate discreetly removed herself from the conversation, and approached the stubborn self-constipating Time Lord.

"Why don't you go to the loo? Elon's not looking at you, he's preoccupied over there," she reminded him.

"He's still here, and thus, will notice if I leave the room," the Doctor pointed out.

"And why would that matter? He doesn't know anything about your alien-ness that would make him believe you don't go to the toilet," Kate assured him, looking at him strictly, instructing him to get up and go.

"I'm 900 years old. Old enough to hold it in without soiling myself like a child," the Doctor snarled, looking away indignantly. Kate, on the other hand, was done with his "superior biology" antics. Pulling up her sleeves to her elbows, she grabbed the Doctor below his arms and yanked him out of the chair. Pushing him toward the hallway, she put one arm on his shoulder and countered his earlier remark:

"But apparently not old enough to listen to your body, and go when you should!" she barked at him. Pushing him again, Kate put one hand on his back, forcing him to follow her down the corridor.

"My father warned me, that you might try endangering your excretory system, for the sake of pride. I assure you, while he let you do it once or twice, I will allow it _zero_ times," Kate stated.

She stopped in front of the toilet, blocking the Doctor from running back. She pointed inside the room.

"There's only one way you're going, Doctor. In there to poo," Kate instructed, giving him a look that showed that she was serious. The Doctor blushed wildly, and then walked obediently into the loo. He heard her leaning next to the door, so he knew he couldn't wait it out, and pretend to go. Sighing in resignation, he walked over to the toilet. He unbuckled his trousers, pulled them down with his pants, and sat down. He began pushing out the poo. The Doctor smiled in relief as the first log was released. A couple of more pushes got all of it out of him, making him feel wonderfully empty and light. Wiping thoroughly twice, he pulled up his trousers, flushed and washed his hands. With a slight blush on his face, he opened the door and stepped out. He smiled awkwardly at Kate.

"Better?" she asked him kindly, much happier with him, now that he had dealt with his "embarrassing" issue.

"Yeah, I feel much better now, thanks," the Doctor replied in gratitude. She smirked smugly, before smiling widely with amusement and patting him on the back. They walked back to Elon Musk.

"Oh, there you are! Got your stomach sorted?" Elon asked casually. The Doctor flushed red in embarrassment. Apparently, he had _known_.

"Yeah," the Doctor said simply, rubbing the back of his head, then clearing his throat to change the topic.

The End.


End file.
